


Blood Flows, Long Gone

by jessok442



Category: Supernatural(TV) - Fandom
Genre: Alternative Universe- Serial Killers, Blood, Dark Humor, Gore, M/M, MMUUUUURRRRRDDDEEEERRRRR, Murder, Other, Slow Build, Top!Cas, bottom!Dean, detective!dean, humor(?), medical examiner!cas, then the frick frack later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:38:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessok442/pseuds/jessok442
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester wasn't even thirity but he managed to be the epitome of the detective stereotype, lonely, grumpy, and on the verge of becoming an alcoholic. It isn't until a strange string of bloodly murders upturn the town of Lawrence, Kansas. It becomes a race against time and a binding of his own morals as he chases the crazed murderer. He can only find solance in his talks to Castiel, the medical examiner. But what happens when the hunter becomes the hunted? And more importantly, what if they like it? </p><p>(If that does not sound like a cheesy af summary fuck me sideways and call me boris(please don't))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Flows, Long Gone

**Author's Note:**

> "Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."  
> -Edgar Allen Poe

To be honest, it wasn't raining heavy or filled with fog when Dean arrived on the crime scene. The sun shined blindingly in the middle of the clear blue sky and the clouds were like a painting. The day was beautiful. Too bad the man lying mutilated and soaked in his own blood could not see. Dean felt a small lump in his throat, after 7 years on the force it happened far too often then he'd like. He walked closer to the body. A warehouse, how typical...he tried some humor to calm the twist in his stomach, _what happened to originality?_ He squatted down on the floor to get a closer look. The man’s face had most of its skin rolling down in long flaps and his body had hundreds of cuts that smelled faintly of lemon.  
“Another torture victim, by the looks of it he was very stubborn." Dean rasped out. His head still ringing from a slight hangover.  
Jo, who had already been at the scene and gently writing notes, she nods, “He’s another businessman, down from New York this time. Kurt Wilson, Sells rep for a food company."  
Dean looked quizzically “The last guy was Vice President of a Construction company in Chicago... that makes no sense..."  
Jo scoffed "Just not to us." She'd repeat that to herself later as she looks over the case file.  
Dean scanned the body for any last clues but stands when he finds none. “Two men in two weeks..." he huffed “They have to have something in common. Family? No, no. Ugh."  
Jo looked over to Dean, "Winchester, did you drink too much last night?"  
Dean let out a short dry laugh, “When don't I?"  
As the forensics continued picking at the body and the scene, the small silence was peaceful.  
Jo finally huffed, “Bobby didn't call us on this case so you can show up to the scene with a hangover."  
Dean grinned “He called us because all the other detectives were still on that Marlin case and Stone Bridge case, Bobby has me as messy leftovers."  
Jo punched him lightly on his arm, “You’re such stereotypical detective, good but a pain in the ass to work with."  
"Why thank you partner." He muttered as he walked back to his car.  
"I heard that!" Jo yelled as Dean drove away laughing like crazy.  
Dean leaned back in his chair, twisting restlessly as he thought. _Two businessmen in town one week after another... obviously a meeting. Business is pretty cut-throat...battling companies? Rivals? Bad sale?_ With that, Dean set off with research, old news articles, interviewing locals who've seen the men, and reading their relatives statements. The day’s already nearing an end and Dean has gotten nowhere. There were too many pieces missing, too many questions unanswered or even asked.  
“Pack up, Winchester; you’re going to strain that pretty little head of yours.” Jo laughs as she emerges from the tech laboratory. Her hands were filled with packets of paperwork. Although Jo was a pain in the ass sometimes, she took the responsibility of completing the piles of paperwork Dean absolutely hated. Dean stuffed his work in his satchel to go over at his home; it was a good three hours after his shift ended. As he shut down his workstation, Jo was already out the door. He soon followed her lead.  
Dean’s Impala stopped comfortably in the driveway of his too-big-for-one-person house. The inside was dark and bare, much like the detective himself. He shuffled through the house, not bothering to turn on many lights. After an extravagant dinner of take-out leftovers, he opened a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a glass. Dean could hardly feel the burn of the alcohol anymore. One glass after another and Dean could finally fall asleep in the warm embrace of liquor.  
Through the pounding in his head and the twisting nausea in his stomach, he hurls himself from his bed. Despite Sam’s pleads that he goes to at least one AA meeting, Dean refuses. AA’s for quitters. Dean knows he has a problem, comes with the job of seeing people brutally murdered every once in a while. Sam has no excuse for his slowly-becoming-ridiculously-long hair. He stood staring at his reflection, taking deep breaths to calm the curling pain. His eyes bore deeply into his own figure, the darkening circles under his eyes, his aging face, and not to forget his pathetic appearance of another night spend alone and drinking. A third type of pain layered over his hangover, an overwhelming sadness. He stripped and ran a cold shower, jumping in before he forms a lump in his throat. The icy blast sent a shock to his system, immediately making him far more alert.  
He decided to skip his morning run, it would only add on to his headache. Once he was finished cleaning up and getting dressed he finally looked somewhat presentable to the public. It wasn’t until he reached for his satchel that he remembered he was supposed to look over evidence. _Shit, ugh, fuck it, oh well._  
He picked up a greasy breakfast and a large coffee, because shit he was going to need it. Once he arrived to the station he realized that his large coffee was a gift from every religious entity imaginable. A party seemed to be in full spring, and in the middle of it all? His two favorite assholes. Gordon and Alistair smile their shit eating grins around their glasses of sparkling cider (which would later be replaced with actual champagne at the party after work.) _Ugh, what now?_ Ignoring the whole commotion, he walked around the crowd to his desk in the far back.  
“Hey, Winchester!” _Fuck._ Gordon’s voice weaved through the crowd and right into Dean’s ringing ears. Dean grudgingly turned to his direction. Gordon had exited the crowd and stood a few feet away from Dean.  
“What is it this time?” Dean threw him his best get-the-fuck-away-from-me look; and as observant as Gordon likes to say his is, he didn’t even get a hint.  
“Would you like some cider or is it too non-alcoholic for nine in the morning?” He laughs as he raises his glass obnoxiously close to Dean’s face. Dean was ready to throw down so much sass that it would tear Gordon a complementary asshole to his giant asshole personality.But Gordon must’ve been protected by some asshole angels when Jo popped right in between the could-have-been showdown.  
“Hey! Winchester, put a smile on that face! We got the Stone Bridge Killer!” Jo beamed. Gordon’s ear-to-ear grin wrapped around his glass as he slipped away, proud of his victory. Dean’s glare chased after him, but immediately snapped back to Jo.  
“Well congrats to them!” Dean bore with widest, fakest, smile he could muster.  
“Fine,” Jo huffed, “How ‘bout instead of sitting on your ass and whining, you can get the autopsy report from Novak.”  
“I don’t just sit on my-” Dean began offended, then realized, “Wait, who’s Novak? Jo you gotta stop calling people by their last names I barely remember their first names.”  
Jo groaned. “Okay, okay, get the autopsy report from Castiel.”  
Dean nodded quickly, then came to a halt. “Who’s Castiel?”  
“The forensic pathologist! He’s working here for already three months Dean!” Jo groaned, “I swear, Dean, all you do is sit at your desk while I’m running around the station!”  
“What happened to Benny?”  
“HE MOVED. No more questions! Get. The. Report.” Jo, with her ungodly strength, pushed through the crowd and out to the hall.  
Dean shrugged, and strode down the winding, white hallway. Several doors down, he is faced with the large double doors and the small sign proclaiming, **“FORENSICS DEPARTMENT”**.  
Within the section were long, bright, hallways and doors webbing off to each different case. He coursed pass each door, looking keenly for the name ‘Novak’. It wasn’t long until he found the name on one of the identical white doors. Upon opening the door the strong smell of bleach and death invaded his senses. He was a bit taken aback; a few feet in front of him laid the same body from the warehouse. A man, nearly his same height, with disheveled dark hair and a crisp lab coat, towered over the body as he picked pieces off the gray skin. Seemly too focused to be interrupted, Dean faked a cough to get his attention. Calmly, the man straightened out and shifted his eyes towards the detective.  
“Are you Castiel?” Dean gave a weak and weary smile.  
“Yes, I’m assuming you’re here for the initial report.” His gravely deep voice spoke from behind his powerful blue eyes. He eased over to the back counter and pulled some files out of what seemed to be a filing cabinet. Pulling a pen out of his coats right pocket, he continued to sign over each paper.  
“I’m surprised to see someone actually working and not celebrating that unsolved case.” Castiel huffed.  
“Ugh, God, tell me about it. Those two dickwad detectives… wait, what do you mean by unsolved?”  
“Raphael, their medical examiner, takes bribes so that cases are solved faster; resulting in the detectives getting promotions. If your guys have a suspect but not the right evidence, well then, let’s just say, it’s the report that really pins them.” Castiel scoffs as he straightens his papers.  
Dean stood with his mouth unhinged, “What? That’s crazy, for one, that would ruin this department's reputation. Two, I thought autopsies had, like, other people there. _And three, how do you even know that?_ ”  
Castiel whipped around and slowly began approaching Dean, “ Well, talk about a compound question...” The corner of his mouth twisted up, “ For one, if you haven’t noticed, the legal system can be a little corrupt. Two, security is surprisingly bad for our department and paperwork can easily be forged.”  
And stopping at a comfortable distance, “ And _three_ , sometimes you hear and see things, at many places and times, and have to pretend it never happened.” Castiel’s smile spread as if the information was a punch line to a joke.  
_This guy is weird._ With Castiel this close, Dean got a good look at the strange man. His lean body, his dark messy hair, and his luminous blue eyes. _But also very attractive._  
" Yeah, sure." Dean smiled slyly, not trusting the downpour of extensive information. The other man seemingly took no offence to his suspicions. Rather so, he passed over the report quickly and pressed his hands into his coat pockets.  
" Have fun." Castiel had suddenly dropped his smile and took on a serious tone. With that he turned back to his work, leaving Dean stranded and confused.  
" Uh, okay, see you later then." Dean stuttered in an awkward cough and swiftly left the room.  
Dean had this strange feeling burrowed deep in his chest. Worry? Fear? Bewilderedness? All of the above? Nevertheless, Dean shoved his worries deep into the corners of his mind. No need to become all worked up about what some nerdy little guy said. With the report firmly clasped in his hand he wondered back to Jo.

**Author's Note:**

> MURRRRRDDDEEERRRRRRRRRRR  
> I'll try updating every week, with spring break coming up I'm sure I'll have time (I hope). I really hoped you liked it, do whatever the shit you wanna do now, but here's my tumblr because I'm shameless: http://jessok442.tumblr.com/  
> beta'd by http://all-across-the-skye.tumblr.com/


End file.
